The night shift
by Bo Reeto
Summary: No matter how many years working the night shift, you can never get used to it. The only question is how many more years have to be worked until its over?


I was tired already and I hadn't even started work yet. The couch groaned along with me as I got up to silence the alarm clock's incessant beeping. The TV was still on, with the sound low showing the weather channel. Cold temperatures, icy rain, sleet, snow, it never seemed to change, it was a wonder why they bothered reporting it some times. I shrugged on my jacket, it smelt old and fusty, it was warm though, and I pulled on my boots nearly stumbling into an old garishly painted hat stand by the door. I grabbed my gloves and pulled them on then almost literally dragged the door open, I kept meaning to getting around to planing some off that rotten door one day but I hadn't got around to it in years and it still stuck halfway open jamming against the same floorboard in the same place every time. Everywhere you looked in this room there was something that was in need of repair. After I exited I pulled the door too hard and it slammed shut as it did every time, making the plaster cracks around the doorframe grow bigger with each year that went by. I really couldn't get started this evening, I almost literally dragged myself along that old windy cold corridor down the rusty metal staircase and out of the main doors into the warehouse.

"Good evening sir, everything is ready" my number 1, enthusiastic as ever bounding up to me like a dog who's owner has just come home. I just grunted in reply, my feet shuffling along the floor as I pulled up my hood, it was cold in here, freezing in fact.

"The weather is supposed to be getting worse in the next few hours so its best to get an early start sir" he continued, "All the packages are in alphabetical order and indexed in the usual way. We made one small change though"

"Why?" I stopped looking him in the eye, I didn't like change, I'd been doing this for years and it was always the same, I could do it with my eyes shut almost. If only I could sleep through all of it. I hated the night shift.

"Oh well" said my number1 hopping from foot to foot "The payload is getting so big each time and its not so much the escape velocity but the overall inertia and how it will affect your tragectory sir"

"So... whats changed?" I grunted

"Well, we rearranged the payload to make it, well... more aerodynamic" he offered

"Whatever, lets just get on with it" I moved off with him skipping beside me. Sometimes I could do without so much unbound enthusiasim, especially feeling the way I did tonight. My head was starting to hurt.

"So, this means you'll have to make some adjustments for descents, decreasing with each target, to compensate, you know the sort of thing" he grinned sheepishly

"Yeah... I stop, drop then go. Simple" I was just so not interested. I thought of just throwing my coat at him and telling him to bloody well do it if he wanted to. But I knew, I was the only one who could do this. I was the only one who could take that old wreck to the places it needed to go and make those drops. I was the one who could make or break it, and nowdays most of the time, I was just plain sick of it all. My back hurt, my legs ached, I was tired, my head was starting to thump I just wanted to crawl back into bed. However, it was a game changer if I didn't drag my sorry self up here and go out there in that god awful weather. Things would never be the same again. Ever.

I stepped up on the metal staging platform, it had recently been repainted with the same old standard industrial cheap red, there were so many coats of paint that on parts of the metalwork you couldn't tell if it was an actual profile of the metal or just paint blobs that had built up over the years. Some of the paint had chipped away and so over the years it gave the appearance of a pocked effect on the handrails and steps. I thought of how the whole building looked like how I was feeling, worn down, in need of repair and perhaps some parts beyond repair, I laughed cynically to myself as I stomped up to the launchpad, my footsteps echoing around the building.

There was no one here now, all the main shifts had gone home only me, number 1, a few stragglers knocking around over by the storage racks having a smoke, and a couple individuals sweeping up in the far side of the warehouse. The lights dimmed as the main doors started to open, the old metal runners scraped and screamed as they parted, the sound felt like it was tearing into my already thumping skull, I ground my teeth until it stopped. The temperature was dropping rapidly now as the cold air rushed in and I could hear the wind howling around the building outside. I stepped into the cockpit as number 1 was still rattling on about this and that.

"... and dont forget, this is all for the greater good. Have a safe mission sir!"

"Sure, later" I grunted, slamming the door shut. It never did shut right though, there was always a gap at the bottom seal and if the wind was just right (or wrong depending on how you looked at it) the side of your seat would get wet if it was raining or snowing. Of course this meant during the course of the night you'd end up with a wet backside, which just added insult to injury. I checked all the controls, most of which didnt really work too well, if at all anymore, and waited as we were coupled up. After lots of clattering, bashing, pushing and pulling, I got the thumbs up from number 1. I released the brake and hit the power. A large loud crack sliced through the air like a bolt of lightning, making the windows rattle and everything shudder, then with a series of violent jerks that hurt my neck and back, we pulled forward and upward out into the night air.

As soon as we'd cleared the doors the weather was battering us. The wind screamed and howled around the cockpit and I felt my stomach lurch as we made a rather rapid ascent towards the cloudbase. Not only was it windy but it was beginning to rain now, or rather a cold driving sleet had settled in as we made our way out across the planet. The landmass below growing smaller as we went higher. "I hate the takeoffs!" I grumbled aloud to myself, but knowing soon we'd be above the weather. It was cold though and I could feel the freezing draughts coming in from the ill fitting doors and perished window seals. This old craft also had some long overdue maintenance. It made me sick to the back teeth looking at all the garishly coloured controls and the fake brass or gold embellishments that not only looked like it was out of the dark ages, but probably was too.

After what seemed like hours of being bumped rattled and jarred around we started to descend. Our first drop; the old mechanical info display on the dashboard, that was just like the ones you see on those old railway destination boards sprung into life and shuffled through a sequence as the letters of the drop's name were spelt out. The name, always the name, why couldn't we use a number? We were dropping at some rate though, I started to think perhaps it was too fast, my head ached and I felt bile rise up in my mouth as we literally dropped out of the sky, I trimmed back on the controls and applied the air brakes. I just about stopped myself from being sick when within a few seconds we stopped with a sudden bang that shook me right to the bones. Then with another another two or three subsequent bangs and a rapid deceleration which threw me forward into the controls, we stopped. I swore. Out loud, which was unusual for me especially when on mission time. That was a nasty landing though. I hated landings.

It was dark outside and I got out of the cockpit yanking open the dispensing chute on the back of the craft and grabbing the paylod for this drop, the bag was so worn and tattered it was a wonder it didnt just disintergrate right there. It wasn't too heavy to lift and I threw it over my shoulder and walked along to the entry point. This was the biggest pain of the lot, no matter how many time I'd done this I still couldnt get used to it. I jumped down the shaft landing hard and jarring myself from the ankles right up to the spine. "Come on get on with it." I muttered to myself. My head was thumping and I was still feeling queasy from the landing. I really should be a little more subtle if I got caught well it wasnt worth thinking about. I quickly went about my work dispensing the payload in the right places, setting it up, making sure it would all go to plan. I turned to exit the same way I came up, using the launch device in the boots to propel me upward when I caught something at the corner of my eye. I could hear the scraping above me, those dumb things up there didnt know how to keep it down, I always had to get out quick when they started up clumping about like a bag of bricks! I saw it again, it wasnt the light, I froze, no... I turned slowly to see it, a small one only two feet tall holding a small stuffed toy. I wasn't going to get away in time and now I was going to have to deal with it.

I turned to face it, my eye meeting its. It squeaked. "Santa!"

"Ho ho ho, happy Christmas little one" I forced a grin... inside though my thoughts were in turmoil, how many more years now would I be doing the night shift until kids started to stop believing again?


End file.
